Yet, always it seemed, there had been some pull between them, something deep within each of them that called to the other. She’d felt it the moment he walked into her shop—

She heard a scrape, a clatter. A muted footstep, followed by another. Her entire body felt as though it were smiling. He’d returned. Swinging open the door, she froze at the sight of the man standing there.

Not Matthew Sommersby.

Thick, chapped lips spread to reveal blackened teeth. “’Ello, daughter.”

Chapter 19

Fancy stared at the rumpled man with his crumpled top hat pulled low, his greasy hair hanging in matted ropy strands down to his shoulders, his scraggly beard possibly serving as a home to lice or fleas. The fingers of his gloves were naught but frayed remnants, leaving his actual fingers—dirty and grimy—exposed. His tattered, worn clothing hung off his skeletal-like frame.

Swiftly, she moved to slam the door closed, but he stuck his booted foot over the threshold, stopping her from reaching her goal. He gave a hard shove on the door that caused her to loosen her hold and stagger back. Squaring her shoulders, she straightened and glared at him. “You’re not my father. My father’s dead.”

“Is that what your mum told you, gel? Bless her. She never did seem to favor me.”

Then how in God’s name could he possibly be her father? It made her skin crawl to think of this man touching her mum. Her mother wouldn’t have borne it. She wouldn’t have allowed him anywhere near her. “You’re lying. My mother never would have let you touch her.”

“Ye’d be surprised what a woman will do to keep a roof over ’er ’ead and that of ’er brood.”

She was going to be ill, bring up her dinner all over his scuffed boots. “I would appreciate it if you’d take your leave now.”

“Caw, gel, not so fast. I ain’t got wot I come fer yet. Thought I’d ’ave to jimmy the lock, I did, but ye so kindly opened the door fer me. Imagine ye thought I was that bloke what just left. How would yer mum feel knowin’ ye was entertainin’ blokes late at night?”

She would be ashamed and devastated. Disappointed. Her entire family would be disappointed. “Sir—”

“Dibble is the name. She should ’ave told you that, at least.”

Her father’s name was Sutherland. David Sutherland. He’d been a soldier. A hero. He wasn’t this vile, dirty creature standing before her. “You need to leave.”